Page 99 of Dirty Damage

But we both know that’s not why I’m shaking now.

“No one’s dying tonight, princess.”

Even after everything I just saw, I trust him. I know he’s telling me the truth.

I lick my lips. “I believe you.”

A streak of something fierce and possessive flashes across his face. Then his mouth is on mine, and thought becomes impossible.

The kiss is brutal, demanding. It’s everything I should run from and everything I need right now.

I arch into him, fingers curling in his shirt. A small, rational part of my brain tries to remind me that I just watched this man kill someone.

But that voice grows fainter with each sweep of his tongue, each bruising press of his hands.

By the time we reach the house, we’re both breathing hard for entirely different reasons than before. The fear has transmuted into something else. Words can’t capture it—I can only whimper when he pulls away to unlock the door.

“Inside,” he growls. “Now.”

We make it one step through the door before his hands are on me again. The foyer spins as he presses me against the wall. His mouth finds a spot behind my ear that makes my knees buckle.

“You were so good tonight,” he murmurs against my skin. “So brave for me.”

The praise shouldn’t affect me this way, but it sends electricity dancing down my spine. I grind into him, desperate for more contact. His answering groan vibrates through my chest.

“Oleg…”

He claims my mouth again. This one is deeper, hungrier than the ones that came before. His hands slide down my sides, leaving paths of fire in their wake.

When they reach my thighs, he lifts me effortlessly and I lock my ankles behind his back.

By the time he lays me on his king-sized bed, our clothes are gone. He’s all chiseled muscle in the moonlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning his scarred skin to glistening silver.

He falls over me, arms caged around my head, his breath hot on my neck.

“I’ll keep you safe, princess,” he whispers as he enters me.

All my life, men have been dangerous. They’ve been threats against me, my mother, my sister.

Men are the monsters.

But Oleg is different.

Even after everything I saw tonight, my body welcomes him like it was made for this—for him. Each thrust draws cries from my throat and forces me to face what I can no longer deny:

I have feelings for this man.

I want to panic, but his hands are everywhere—claiming, marking, worshipping. The pleasure builds until I’m trembling on the edge, desperate and needy.

“That’s it.” His voice is strained with the effort of control. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

I shatter around him with a cry that echoes off the vaulted ceiling. He follows moments later, my name a feral rasp against my skin.

The comedown is slow, languid. Oleg’s weight anchors me to reality as our breathing steadies. He rolls to his side, pulling me with him so we’re facing each other in the moonlit darkness. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip until he sinks into heavy sleep.

But I’m wide awake, my mind racing faster than those motorcycles that chased us earlier. The peace I felt in his arms starts to crack as the real world steals back in.

Carefully, I extract myself from his embrace. The sheet whispers against my skin as I wrap it around me and pad to the window.

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